


A Case of Heaven and Hell

by siephilde42



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Child abductions, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley hates people who hurt children, Don't copy to another site, Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), First Kiss, Getting Together, Intended Human Trafficking, It is intended though, M/M, No abuse, Sandman reference, Temporary Character Death, They are saved in time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 07:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20720552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siephilde42/pseuds/siephilde42
Summary: Sherlock and John Watson look for children who have gone missing recently and meet a couple at a Mayfair flat which set out to look for the children on their own as well.





	1. Setting the Stage

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to a darker place again. The children in this story are saved in time, but please mind the tags.

_"Now tell me what's amiss with me?"_

_"I'm in love with somebody else," said she._

_It was my turn to jump out of my chair._

_"It's nobody in particular," she explained, laughing at the expression of my face: "only an ideal. I've never met the kind of man I mean."_

_"Tell me about him. What does he look like?"_

_"Oh, he might look very much like you."_ 1

***

"Could you get the door, my dear?", Aziraphale asked - without looking up from his book - when the bell rang.

"Sure, angel", Crowley replied, sauntering towards the front door. "If you're here to talk about God with us, you have come to the wrong place", he greeted the pair standing in front of him.

"Unfortunately that's not why we are here. It's about missing children", the larger one of them answered.

_Children. _Something in Crowley's chest twisted, and images of a flood popped up in his mind.

"Then, by all means, come in, please", the demon said, inviting them with a wave.

"Thank you. I'm Sherlock Holmes, and that's John Watson."

When he heard those names, the angel jumped up, putting the book away. "Oh. I read your blog. It's exciting", he exclaimed, beaming at the doctor. 2

_Exciting?_ "Missing children, angel", Crowley hissed, with a tone which said _Maybe be a bit less excited. _

"Oh. Right." Aziraphale's face dropped. "Uh, how can we help you?"

"Well", Sherlock answered, "we wanted to ask you if you noticed something out of the ordinary two days ago, around 4 pm. That's the time Thomas Miller disappeared. A nine-year old boy, from a family living diagonally opposite you. He was playing on the street and never came inside for dinner."

"I'm afraid not", the angel said. "Darling?"

"Me neither. Didn't see anything."

"All right", the detective sighed. "If you remember anything, just give us a call." At this, his partner pulled out a card and gave it to Crowley.

Sherlock turned towards the door. "John, let's go."

"I cannot believe that we still haven't any clues", the doctor blurted out. "It has been three weeks! And twelve missing children!"

"Thirteen", Sherlock corrected him, voice uncharacteristically quiet.

"Thirteen children. We _need _to find something. I mean, if someone abducts a such large group of children..."

"I'm aware. I'm aware, John."

After the pair had left, the angel sighed. "Dreadful. Those poor children." He made way for his armchair, about to pick up his book again when Crowley spoke up.

"You remember the incident some weeks ago? The neighbour child who ran into me by accident when he was playing football with his friends?"

"Yes, I remember. He was very polite, if memory serves. Apologised profusely and was very embarrassed by almost having knocked you down."

"Yes, right. And he introduced himself as Tommy. I think that was Thomas Miller. I was already wondering why I didn't see him playing outside yesterday as usual", the demon explained, pulling back the curtain and looking down at the street, deep in thought.

"So...?", Aziraphale pressed.

"So the boy _touched _me. Which means, if something evil has happened to him - and that seems likely - I might be able to find him."

"Oh."

1 Excerpt from "The Lost World" by A.C. Doyle

2 For anyone wondering, he read the blog on a smartphone Crowley had given to him as a present.


	2. Different Searching Methods

"Are you sure we shouldn't approach Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson?", Aziraphale asked, holding an umbrella over Crowley.

"And what, pray, should we tell them? 'You see, I can sense evil, so I might, given some time, be able to track the last missing boy'? How the hell do you want to explain this in a way they can accept?" 

"We could erase their memory", Aziraphale added.

"This would only lead to delay. Not really a good idea, angel."

The angel sighed. "All right. You win. Any luck, by the way?"

"Not so far. The cold is dampening my senses. I'm constantly losing the trail", the demon replied, shuddering. And not only because of the cold.

Some hours later, they still had not found anything, and Crowley was cursing. "Blast it. I have completely lost track."

"Backtrack home and try again tomorrow? You look positively exhausted, my dear." That was an understatement. The demon's eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks pale and he was staggering even more than usual.

"But we should..."

"Crowley. It's no use continuing when you're in that state."

Resignated, the demon agreed. "Alright. Let's go home."

*** The next morning ***

"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?", Sherlock asked, once again.

"No", the man replied. "I'm sorry."

_Something doesn't feel right_, John thought. Granted, on the outside, the guy expressed as much sympathy as the other people they had encountered so far, but, still, something felt amiss. He wondered if Sherlock was picking it up too or if it was just an irrational feeling. "Excuse me", he asked, "could I maybe use your, uh, facilities?"

"Sure", the man said, after a pause. "Go out on the corridor, second door on the right."

"Thank you", the doctor replied, smiling. _He hesitated. Why did he hesitate before answering me? _

He stepped out of the room, looking back to ensure that he was out of sight, and ignored the doors on the corridor completely. He went down the stairs to the ground level. _We came in on ground level. Improbable that there's anything here. Basement, then. _Another staircase. He flicked on the light. The basement seemed empty on first sight except for some shelves. _In a horror or crime movie, now would be a good time to find a hidden entrance. _He looked around the room, scanning the gray walls. Suddenly he had to laugh at himself. _Stupid. There's nothing here. It was just a silly feeling. _He turned to go up the stairs again, before his disappearance was noticed.

Before he could do so, he heard something which froze the blood in his veins.

Metallic clanging. The pipes in the room were making noises. _Someone is hitting the pipes leading to this room. _"Hello?", he called out, touching the wall where the pipes stuck out. _The wall is probably too thick_, he thought. Raising his revolver, he used the weapon to hit the pipes himself, three times. He held his breath. It took some seconds, then there was an answer. Clanging, three times. _I found them. I really found them_, John thought. Of course, there could be some other explanation, but he knew in his gut that he was right. Now, back upstairs, walk out of here, call Greg and...

John never heard the man coming. He did not hear the shot, either.


	3. Reencounter

Some minutes later, the demon and the angel arrived at the same mansion.

"You sure that is it?", Aziraphale asked.

"Positive", Crowley replied. "Let's go in", he said, casually snapping his fingers to open the front door.

"Which way?"

"Basement", Crowley said with determination.

"Oh, fu...", the angel exclaimed when they got into the room. "Is that..." He stopped himself. Of course, after over 6,000 years on Earth, he knew what human blood and brains looked like. "That doesn't look good."

"No", the demon agreed. "The trail marks... There is a hidden entrance." Raising his arm, he mumbled "Open Sesame", his tone contradicting the light remark.

The door revealed a dark hallway, containing several cells. 3 

Following the blood trail, they opened one of them and entered the room.

"Sherlock. Sherlock?", John asked, in desperation. "Look at me, please. I'm here."

Instead of looking at him, Sherlock was kneeling over... over...

"Sherlock, damn it...", he called out.

"He cannot hear you", Crowley whispered to him. "Cannot see you, too. You see, you're..."

"Yes. Yes, I know", John answered, looking down on his own body.

"I never told you", Sherlock brought out, completely ignoring the ethereal beings. "I never told you... How much I... " His voice broke.

"What? What didn't you tell me?", John asked.

"I love you. I love you, John Watson. I'm... so sorry. I... should've..."

"You... what?", John exploded. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Crowley saw a shadow emerging from the corner of the room. _Of course._

The shadow settled down in a more solid form and faced the doctor.

"JOHN HAMISH WATSON. IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO GO."

"No. No", John called out, in panic. "I can't leave Rosie behind. And I can't leave _him_. Not like this. I... I..."

Even if he did not complete the sentence, Crowley grasped the meaning of it. He looked at the sobbing detective. 

"And Rosie. Rosie. How on Earth am I supposed to tell Rosie that...", Sherlock wept.

_Reminds me of a demon in a burned-down bookshop_, Crowley thought. _It's a pity I can't... Wait. _

A memory stirred. John Watson reaching out, giving him a card. Fingers brushing. Touching.

In a split second, Crowley made a decision. "Back off", he hissed, taking a step towards Death.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, BACK OFF? I NEED TO TAKE HIS SOUL. HIS BODY IS DEAD."

The demon smirked. "No, it isn't. Not anymore... now." He snapped his fingers.

With a gasp, John jumped up. "What... What the hell..." Unconsciously, his hands wandered over his chest to assert himself that he was really back in his body. "How did you do... Hang on. Why could you see me at all?" He moved back, increasing his distance to Crowley. "_What _are you?"

"I'd rather tell you later. You might freak out."

"I... I might freak out? What do you think I'm doing right now?", John yelled at him. "Wait. Did he leave?", he asked, terror on his face.

"For now, yes. Of course, he will come back for you eventually, but he did leave."

"What... what are you even talking about?", Sherlock asked, obviously on the verge to losing his mind. "How are you alive?"

"I would like to know the answer to that too. I... can't believe I just saw the Grim Reaper."

"Oh, come on", Crowley scoffed. "I mean, you're aware that Death exists. Does it matter if it comes to you without corporation, as hooded skeleton or as a young, pale goth girl?"

John shuddered. "I... suppose not."

"Okay. Either I've gone completely insane now, or...", Sherlock swallowed, "or you are really here."

"Allow me", Aziraphale chimed in. "All doubt will now leave you. I assure you, your friend is very much alive."

Sherlock blinked, visibly calming down.

John just stared at Aziraphale. "How the fuck are you guys doing this? Are you using magic?"

"Well... the term 'magic' seems to imply that we are magicians, which in turn would imply that we are human...", explained the angel.

"So... supernatural beings, then?", John asked.

"Yes. Let's leave it at this for the moment", Crowley confirmed.

3 Oh look, another horror/thriller cliche.


	4. A Taste of Hell

"So angel, how about you and those two go and release the children, and I give the abductors a taste of Hell?"

"I don't know... I should go with you. They might be mortals, but... don't get discorporated, please."

"I won't. I promise. And I don't want you to see this."

The angel sighed. "All right. Just be careful."

Crowley placed a light kiss on his cheek. "I'm _always _careful, angel."

"Except when you drive 90 miles an hour in the city of London", Aziraphale grumbled, quietly.

"I heard that", the demon called out.

"Okay. Children. Set the children free", the angel muttered. "Come on, lads."

"Shouldn't we call the police first?", John asked.

"Oh, already did", Aziraphale replied. 4

"How... I'm not even gonna ask. Just let us get the children out of here", John said.

They opened the first door, finding four children inside.

"Hello", Aziraphale beamed, "we are here to rescue you. Just come with us."

Instead of doing so, the children shied back. One of the children shook their head. "No. How do we know that's not a trick so that we will come with you to the new place without making a fuss?"

John stepped forward, cautiously. "Um. Maybe you recognise him? Sherlock Holmes." That did not get a response. "Famous detective... No? Um..."

"How do we know you're not like the other men who want to sell us?"

"Did they... hurt you?", John asked, dreading the answer.

"No. Not yet. But how do we know you won't? How do we know you are not like those men?"

Aziraphale cleared his throat. "I'm not a man", he explained. "I might look like one, but..." He closed his eyes, concentrating. He heard John and Sherlock gasp in unison. When he opened his eyes again, his whole body was glowing and his wings were out.

"Oooh! So pretty!", one of the children cried out, and Aziraphale smiled. The child approached him, eyeing the wings. "Can I touch them?", they asked.

"Sure you can", the angel replied, and the dam broke. The rest of the children formed a ring around him and started examining the wings. "Come, children", he said, and they did. 5

"So... you're a fucking angel", John stammered.

"Obviously", Aziraphale replied.

"And your partner... he an angel too?"

"Yes. No. Sort of. It's complicated."

Just in that moment, the horrified screams started. "Ah. Crowley started his show", Aziraphale noted.

When they brought the children outside (with Aziraphale's wings tucked in again), Scotland Yard came their way.

"You found them", Greg Lestrade realised, his voice brimming with relief. "All thirteen of them?"

"All thirteen. And all of them unharmed", Sherlock replied.

"Thank God."

_Not sure if She has to do anything with it_, Aziraphale thought but did not say aloud.

"The perpetrators still inside?", Greg asked.

"Yeah. For now. I think...", Sherlock was grasping for words to explain in a plausible manner how he knew they would not escape.

Thankfully, he did not need to, because the abductors were now running outside in blind panic. "Help! Help! Someone kill that monster!" "A giant serpent!" "Huge fangs!" "It threw fire at me!" "Big black wings!" "Kill it!" they screamed, letting themselves be arrested with relatively small resistance, trying to hide behind the policemen.

Very puzzled, Greg Lestrade looked at the entrance of the mansion. "You guys seen a monster down here?", he asked, addressing John and Sherlock.

"No", both answered at the same time.

Of course, when the demon sauntered out of the mansion, his outward appearance was human again.

Greg approached him. "Who are you, sir?"

"Anthony J. Crowley. I'm with Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson."

"All right. Did you see anything strange in the mansion? Like a large animal, I mean?"

"What the hell are you talking about? No."

"That's him! That's the monster!", one of the abductors yelled, pointing at Crowley.

As slow as he could, the demon stepped closer to the man until he stood directly in front of him.

"Me? You're calling _me_ a monster? I'm not the one who abducted a group of children to sell them."

Greg scoffed. "Bring them in", he said. "Let's wrap this up." 

4 Using a frivolous miracle, of course.

5 Children following an angel. I'm sorry for all the cliches in this story.


	5. Revelations

"So... when I asked your partner if you were an angel too...", John broke off and looked at the Thames. The sunrise was drawing closer. "He said, 'Sort of'."

At this, Crowley chuckled. _Of course Aziraphale would say such a silly thing._

"He... what he meant was that you are a fallen angel, didn't he?", the doctor continued, his uneasiness increasing.

"Fallen angel, demon, devil, whatever you want to call it. Same thing", Crowley replied.

With a sinking heart, John asked "So... does that mean my soul belongs to you now?"

For a moment, Crowley just stared at him. Then he burst out into laughter. In fact, he was laughing so hard that tears dripped down his cheeks. "Good Lord. No", he replied, wiping away the tears, "_no. _That's not how that works at all."

"No?"

"No. To claim a soul for Hell, you have to corrupt it. The soul. Simply jump-starting a body hasn't any effect."

"Ah. Okay. That's good to hear."

"Anyway, I doubt that any demon could lure you into Hell. Not with the firm principles you have", Crowley stated. "If there was ever a candidate for the expressway to Heaven, it's probably you. At least after what I saw in your soul."

"Really?", John asked, doubt in his voice.

"Oh, _please_", Sherlock scoffed. "I mean, it's always _you_ who wants to help. Who risks his life without hesitation for others. If _you_ don't go to Heaven, then no one will."

Some instances of ethically ambivalent behaviour, unfaithfulness, violence popped up in John's mind. "But..."

Crowley interrupted him. "Don't argue with him. You won't be able to convince him otherwise. Obviously."

"Obviously, because it's the truth", Sherlock added.

_And because you're in love with me_, John thought. He swallowed hard. He was not ready to broach the topic yet. Not with the demon and the angel still standing there. So he changed the subject. "Um. Can I ask you something, Mr. Crowley?"

"It's just Crowley. Sure, what?"

"Can all demons do this? Bring people back to life, I mean?"

"Wouldn't know. If they can, we don't talk about it. It's not exactly something a demon would brag about. Maybe all demons can do it. After all, angels and demons are of the same stock, in the end."

"Or it's because he was once such a powerful healer angel", Aziraphale speculated. 

Crowley scoffed.

"A healer angel?", John asked.

"_The _healer angel, actually", Aziraphale added before he could stop himself.

"_The _healer angel? But that would be...", John broke off when he saw Crowley's glance. "Uh. Touchy subject?"

"Very", Crowley replied, curtly. "Better not to elaborate it. Besides, I believe the two of you have more important things to discuss."

"We... we have?", Sherlock stammered.

"Yes, you have. Angel, I believe our job here's done. Let's go home." He took Aziraphale's hand and tugged him away gently.

***

The sun was coming over the horizon now, painting the river with hues of red, orange, golden and yellow.

"What did he mean when he said we have more important things to discuss?", Sherlock asked, his voice quiet.

"I didn't just hear Death and the two of them. I..."

_Oh no_, Sherlock thought. _Heavens, no._

He tried to turn around and move away, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"What do you think you are doing?", John asked.

"I... I'm sorry. I mean, you could never... You can't..."

He never got to explain what he thought John Watson couldn't, because the latter silenced him with a kiss.

***

"I didn't get it wrong, did I?", Crowley asked.

"Didn't get what wrong, my dear?"

"He _does _love him back, doesn't he? I mean, you can _feel _these things."

"Oh, that. Yes. I'm quite sure he does."

***

"I must confess, I cannot deduce the former identity of our friend Crowley. Former non-believer here. Could you enlighten me?", Sherlock asked.

"I can't believe that that's the first thing you're saying after... Hang on. Are you saying that I did come to a deduction you are not able to make? I need to mark today's date in red on the calendar._" _

"Because of the deduction?", the detective asked, teasing.

"Maybe not just because of the deduction", the doctor admitted. _Deduction, rebirth, kiss. Hell of a day._

"Raphael", he said out loud.

"Oh." 

THE END


End file.
